


Muggle Means

by witchlips



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: FTM!Severus, Gen, Mentor Severus Snape, Trans!Harry, ftm!Harry, trans!severus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-01-27 16:12:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12585684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchlips/pseuds/witchlips
Summary: (I was hella drunk when I wrote this first of all, so uh. Be warned.)Harry doesn't observe binder safety. Severus is irritated. Sirius and Remus are awkward.I may expand this AU, so I'll leave it open, but right now it's a oneshot.(EDIT: Due to rather unanimous reviews, I am expanding this oneshot.)





	1. Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Remember. Hella Drunk. Also. Minor editing, but I don't THINK there's typos? I may have missed something. Who knows.

Harry gasped awake and fumbled for the lamp at the side of his bed. He knew he’d screwed up royally. He had known it since he’d stumbled into bed the night before, breathing so heavily even Aunt Petunia had sent him a concerned look when she thought no one was looking. 

 

Very slowly, and with a pained grimace, Harry sat up on the lumpy, threadbare mattress of Dudley’s second bedroom. Little shallow gasps of air were all that he could manage. Gingerly, Harry leaned back against the rickety headboard, and pulled up the layer of tight fabric he’d been wearing for almost a full three days, including to work outside.

 

His nose scrunched up at the sight underneath and the slightly sour smell of days old sweat. The skin over one’s ribs should definitely not be mottled with dark purple and yellow like that. Not to mention, breathing was absolutely excruciating. With stitled movements and pained grunts, Harry peeled the restricting fabric from his torso, tossed it at the end of his bed, and gingerly pulled his covers up over his chest so that he wouldn’t have to look at it.

 

Hedwig churred worriedly from her perch, and the boy looked up at his owl, brow knit and mouth set in a small shaky smile.

 

“I really messed up this time,” He whispered in a trembling and raspy voice. The owl cocked her head to the side and appraised him with her warm amber eyes, “I’ll have to send for someone… Hopefully they'll actually answer if it's important… If Dudley hits me like this, or I have to do any of those stupid chores, I’ll break a rib. If I haven’t already.”

 

Hedwig bobbed her head, then took leave of her perch to settle awkwardly on Harry’s knees. He smiled and pet the plush feathers that covered the top of her head. The movement of his arm jarred the injured ribs, and Harry couldn’t help the aborted whimper that left his lips.

 

“Oh,  _ Merlin _ , that hurts…” He hissed softly. Clenching his teeth, Harry fumbled in the bedside table for some spare loose leaf notebook paper Dudley had left there, and an almost dried out ballpoint pen he’d filched from the kitchen ages ago.

 

With a shaky hand, Harry wrote to his godfather on the bend of his thigh.

 

_ Snuffles, _

 

_ I have an emergency injury situation. Please send someone as quickly as possible. _

 

_ -Harry _

 

Not even bothering to check it over, Harry folded it four times and tied it carefully with a bit of thread from his fraying comforter before he attached it to Hedwig’s leg. 

 

“Take it straight to Sirius as fast as you can, girl,” He whispered to her as he took stock of the time. It was almost four in the morning now, “Bang on the windows of wherever he's at until he comes to get it. If they can get here before the Dursleys get up, it would be best.”

 

Harry turned to open the window as quietly as he could. The sharp stabbing pains across his torso left him shaking a little, and breathing even more shallow. Hedwig gave him a concerned churr and rubbed her head against his arm, but otherwise wasted no time in taking off from Number 4.

 

The boy slid down into the bed again. It took a lot of turning over and more than a few expletives for him to figure out there was no way to lay that didn’t hurt. With that discovery, Harry managed to press a thin arm over his chest to keep it from moving too much, and pushed himself from the bed and up to his feet.

 

Little twinges of pain laced over the bones and muscles of his back, but he grit his teeth and stumbled over to the rundown dresser to pull out a large faded blue shirt and one of the oversized hoodies Dudley had somehow managed to outgrow.

 

Getting the shirt on was an awkward affair that hurt only slightly less than removing the binder had, but the fabric was worn soft and light, and helped to cover the distressing sight of his chest. In contrast, the hoodie was much easier to pull on.

 

He was just debating attempting socks when there was a clicking from down the stairs. Harry looked toward the door and listened carefully. Sure enough, the sounds of people coming inside and mumbling softly to themselves were drifting up to the room. 

 

Harry frowned and padded on his naked feet to the door. He cracked it open and looked down the stairwell to see two people lit by wandlight, and swallowed nervously.

 

Surely, Sirius hadn’t gotten his letter already?

 

The boy closed the door silently and walked as quickly as was possible back to his bed. Biting back a groan as he bent over, Harry pulled up the loose floorboard under his bed and scooped the things inside into his trembling arms. After that was finished, he grabbed his wand from the bedside table, and turned toward the door just incase the people that had come in weren’t friendly.

 

“Harry?” Came a whispered voice. It was feminine and unfamiliar, and Harry gripped his wand tighter. He didn't answer.

 

“Harry, it's Remus. Where are you?” Harry relaxed the grip on his wand and thought frantically for a moment before answering in a labored pant. 

 

“What’s the shape of my Patronus?”

 

There was a small silence before Remus replied, “A stag. Like your father. Where are you?”

 

Harry sighed as much as he could and lowered his wand. He walked to the door awkwardly and fumbled with the doorknob before he swung it open.

 

“Here… I'm in here,” he said, meeting Remus’ warm brown eyes from where the man stood on the stairwell, “How did you get here so fast?”

 

The werewolf smiled gently and practically jumped up the stairs. Harry sent a panicked look down the hall at his relatives rooms, but nobody came angrily barreling out.

 

“We took care of them already,” Remus told him, looking over the boy’s bent frame. Harry frowned at this and glanced behind his old Defense Professor. A young woman stood near the door. Her hair was short and a shocking pink color, and she had the kind of grin that made her whole face light up, “That's Tonks. She's come with me to get you.”

 

Harry nodded slowly and looked back up at the scarred man. Remus’ friendly face and steady manner was almost like a balm on Harry’s nerves. The boy swallowed nervously and whispered, “I might have a broken rib.”

 

“What?” Remus hissed. Instantly, those brown eyes were filled with concern and Remus was taking the things Harry had in his arms, “Get back in your room. Show me. Tonks! Stay there. We’ll be right back.”

 

Harry let out a soft breath of relief and stepped back in the room. Remus stood to block the doorway from the woman downstairs and Harry was thankful for it. He could always count on Remus to be sensitive to his needs.

 

Slowly, Harry lifted the hem of his shirt to just below the swell of his chest. Remus’ face seemed to flicker between horror and despair for a moment before he managed to school his expression into neutrality.

 

“We can’t Apparate you in this condition, Harry,” Remus told him gravely. Harry bit his bottom lip and pulled the shirt down. His pale hands shook as he rearranged the baggy hoodie to hide himself.

 

“How will we get there, then…? How far is it? I don’t know if I can ride a broom very far,” Harry whispered back furiously.

 

Remus frowned and strained to look over his shoulder, where Harry guessed Tonks was waiting patiently. After a moment he turned back and gave Harry a short nod.

 

“Tonks can Apparate ahead with your things. I’ll call a muggle cab,” Remus told him firmly.

 

Harry frowned, unsure if being jostled around in a car would really help. It seemed the best option they had, though, so he nodded back and didn’t argue.

 

“It’s just that stuff in your arms, the few clothes in the dresser, and the trunk that is in the cupboard under the stairs,” Harry told him. His fever bright eyes fell on the things Remus had grabbed, “If you could keep that stuff with us… please, Remus.”

 

Remus’ face softened and he clutched the armful of Invisibility Cloak and photo album closer to his chest.

 

“Of course, Harry,” He replied in his gentlest voice.

 

* * *

 

The ride in the muggle cab was just as horrifically awful as Harry thought it would be. Everytime they hit a bump Harry would have to stifle a whimper or moan by biting his bottom lip, and by the time they arrived in the dark grimy neighborhood Remus had directed the cabbie to, his lip was near scarlet, and actually bleeding in places.

 

The taxi lurched to a stop at about the time the sky had begun to turn a greyish yellow with the rising of the sun, and Remus got out first, hurrying around the car to help Harry out of it. After handing the man money, and watching him drive off, Remus took a second to feel around his pockets. A moment later he relaxed and smiled a little.

 

Remus pulled a small piece of parchment from his jacket pocket and handed it to Harry. With a wary frown, the boy unfolded it. Printed in familiar emerald green script was;

 

_ The Order of the Phoenix resides in Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London _

 

Harry looked up at Remus, and was about to say something about the strange scrap of parchment, when out of the corner of his eye, a foreboding, and decrepit looking townhouse began to unfold between the townhouses marked 11 and 13 respectively. It was utterly fascinating that the muggles in the buildings adjacent, either hadn’t woken or deviated from their morning routines as it did so.

 

“I’ll tell you about it once we’re inside,” Remus told him quietly, taking the parchment and destroying it with a quick _Incendio_. He then grabbed Harry and pulled him along to the peeling old door of the house gently, “Try to be quiet until we’re in the kitchen. We don’t want to wake up Mrs. Black.”

 

Harry frowned in confusion (he was reasonably certain Sirius’ mother was dead, after all), but did as he was told and stayed silent as Remus opened the door to the building. 

 

The inside of the house was even worse than the outside. The wallpaper was caked in a dusty grey film, and there was an umbrella stand near the door that looked suspiciously like a severed leg from a troll like the one Harry had fought with Ron and Hermione in first year. Remus lead him to the double doors of what Harry assumed to be the kitchen, and pulled them open for the boy to shuffle through.

 

“Harry!” Came Sirius’ excited bark from the table sat in the middle of the room. There were few others sat with the man, and to be honest, Harry didn’t care to confirm who all it was. His godfather was here.

 

Harry gave a pained smile and moved in a bit so that Remus could shut the door all the way, “Hey, Padfoot.”

 

The boisterous man rushed up to him before Harry could say a word in protest and swept him into a crushing hug. It felt as though every bone in Harry’s torso had simultaneously snapped inward at the action. The pain of it caused Harry to gasp for air. It was as if he couldn't get any to stick inside his body.

 

“Sirius!” Remus growled in unison with Harry’s gasp. Sirius released Harry quickly, but the damage was done.

 

Harry’s breath hitched and he didn’t bother to hold back the strangled whimper that fell from his lips. It felt as if he were going to faint. Air wasn’t getting to his lungs like it should, like they were half filled with water, and the boy’s panting became louder and much more apparent.

 

“Oh, Merlin!” Came Sirius’ warbled voice from somewhere that felt far far away, “What did I do!?”

 

“Move, you idiot!” Came a deeper, much more irritated voice from somewhere beyond the point where Sirius’ shoulder had blurred and began to fade from view. A great black blob pushed the blur of Sirius away, grabbed the back of Harry’s neck in a cold, but firm grip, and the tip of a very dark wand focused around the end of the boy’s nose. A mumbling noise that Harry thought might be a spell came from the dark figure, and suddenly air was streaming in and the liquid seemed to diminish. 

 

It took a few great shaking breaths of stale musty air, but eventually Harry could tell well enough where he was and to whose thick black robes he was clutching in order to remain standing. Snape’s foreboding face swam into view, looking impossibly more sharp and furious in the dim half-light of the kitchen.

 

Everything within Harry told him to let go of the man’s robes, but he couldn't seem to get his hands to follow the order. They had cramped shut like vices, and Harry’s legs were trembling so bad he knew he wouldn't be able to stand if they suddenly found the will to drop the soft fabric.

 

“Potter,” Snape growled, drawing back as far as he could from Harry while the boy still grasped his clothes so tightly. Harry’s head wobbled as he tried to look up at the man, “Let. Go.”

 

“Can't,” Harry panted. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his upper lip and between the blades of his shoulders, “They've cramped.”

 

“He thinks he may have broken a rib, Severus,” Remus’ warm voice held a note of something foreign to it. Harry hadn't the presence of mind to ponder on it, but it sounded wary.

 

“Yes, I was told you'd gotten into some kind of trouble, yet again,” Snape sneered. Slowly Harry became aware of Snape’s hands as well. One was still grasping the back of his neck, but the other had relocated to cup Harry’s elbow in support. The realization made Harry frown, “Though I fail to see why I was called to deal with this, Lupin.”

 

“Madam Pomfrey is out of the country for the week and...He… did it to himself… and… well…” Remus stuttered from somewhere behind Harry. He sounded frightened, and strangely embarrassed before Sirius cut in from the side with a carefully neutral expression.

 

“He’s like you,” The animagus mumbled gruffly, “Got the wrong body and shit.”

 

Harry startled a little at Sirius’ words and jerked his eyes up to meet the unfathomable black gaze of his Potions Professor. The man's face was almost entirely unreadable, but the thick atmosphere and the firm set of his thin mouth seemed to drip with some unspoken fury. Harry shuddered despite himself.

 

“Leave us,” Snape hissed in his softest, most dangerous voice. The hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood up despite himself at the frigid tone, “I will not have either of  **you** here while I see to this matter. Nothing I have to say or do is for  **you** .”

 

Half expecting Sirius to fire up and become indignant, Harry was surprised that the man nodded his ascent quietly and hurried out, all but dragging Remus by the arm after him. Not that the werewolf seemed eager to stay either. There was a sound like someone had tripped, and then the pink haired witch was rushing after the two men.

 

Snape kept his firm grip on Harry’s elbow and neck to lead him to the great slab of scarred up wood that formed an island counter.

 

“I’m going to have to lift you. You will have to help me or it will hurt more than it will anyway, understood, Potter?” He instructed as he turned Harry so that his back was to the counter. Harry gave a hesitant nod, and suddenly the Potions Master had an arm around his waist and both large hands gripping the fabric of his jeans. The boy’s eyes widened, and he instinctively tried to tighten the grip of his hands on Snape’s robes as he was suddenly lifted off the floor and sat onto the wooden surface with an unceremonious thump.

 

“Ow,” Harry huffed through quick breaths. Snape ignored him and started to push against Harry’s back and his shoulders to get him sitting a little straighter.

 

“What did you do to yourself this time?” The man drawled irritably, “Your dogfathers hardly made any sense, and I need to know details from you.”

 

“I…” Harry started. He eyed the man warily and gathered himself. Sirius had seemed pretty sure, and if that was the case, he had nothing to worry about. Sirius, after all, would be the last person to trust Snape if he could help it. Not to mention, it seemed the man was his only source of medical help this morning. Harry sighed and lifted his shirt up under the swell of his chest like he had done for Remus and told the man, “I wore my binder too long…”

 

Snape’s inky dark eyes widened just slightly at the bruising before a scowl overcame his face and he growled, “Idiot boy. How long did you wear it? What did you do in it?”

 

“It… It was on something like three days,” Harry told him sheepishly. Snape’s glare became thunderous at this pronouncement.

 

“You took it off at night?” He asked Harry, not looking the slightest bit hopeful. Harry shook his head in the negative and Snape growled under his breath, “Of course not. That would’ve been smart.”

 

Harry bristled and went to retort, but the man gave a pointed look at Harry’s torso, and his jaw snapped shut. The boy felt his face flush and looked away from that black gaze. It was very difficult to argue with the results.

 

“I mostly did chores inside,” Harry continued in a mumble, “but Vernon had me work outside, too.”

 

The Potions Master sat back with a heavy sigh and pinched at the bridge of his nose, “Does the work outside count under ‘strenuous activity’, Potter?”

 

“Er… yes,” Harry admitted quietly.

 

“You should have been sent to me much earlier,” Snape growled. He pointed at Harry’s shirt and lifted one eyebrow, “I’ll need to look at your chest to confirm you haven’t damaged any tissue. You do not have to watch and I will not touch anything. Understood?”

 

Harry frowned and squirmed around on the counter, but gave the man a short nod of confirmation, “Yes… sir.”

 

Snape’s lips pressed together in irritation. He stepped forward a little and first took a moment to pry Harry’s now limp hands from his robes before he lifted the overly large shirt up to Harry’s chin. The boy himself kept his eyes locked on a pulsing vein on the side of the man’s forehead and tried to keep his mind off of what was happening and why.

 

After a minute or so, Snape sat back and dropped the shirt. Then the length of the man’s wand was pointed at Harry’s chest as the man mumbled a few spells and furrowed his brow in concentration. That didn’t last long before the man finally looked up at Harry with a neutral expression and a half-sigh.

 

“You’ve managed to fracture a rib, but it  _ is _ mostly bruising. It seems your damnable luck has come through yet again,” Snape drawled out, “You’ll have to take a dose of Skele-grow, which I will give to the werewolf to administer, and then you will need to lay down for the morning. I’ll give you a balm you may apply yourself for the bruises.”

 

Harry nodded his understanding. His shoulders slumped in relief, “Yes, sir.”

 

“Do not” The Potion Master continued with a mild glare, “be so foolish again, Potter. I will return next week with the potion that will shrink the chest, do you understand? I do not want you back in that binder the entire time I’m gone. Apply your balm and wear your regular horrifyingly baggy clothing and do nothing else to the area. Do you understand?”

 

“But, I-” Harry swallowed down his protest at the murderous glare that started on Snape’s face, and gave a grim, slightly irritated nod, “Yes, sir.”

 

Snape narrowed his eyes and swept them up and down Harry’s face, “I should have realized earlier and told you there were methods far superior to what muggles have to do. Methods the others wouldn’t know of. In this particular area… I do regret the lack of trust between us, Potter.”

 

With that, the man swept from the room in a swirl of fluttering black robes, leaving a rather stunned Harry Potter staring after him even as the door slammed shut.


	2. Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes assumptions about himself and Severus by extension. Severus is cryptic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People asked for me to continue this, and I find that I'd really like to, so here we are. Little breadcrumbs for the plot I've decided upon are littered through out.
> 
> Un'beta'd. I might actually look for someone to do this story soon, because it's kind of... important to me. Until such a time, feel free to let me know of any mistakes if you see them. Some times I miss things.

A week later, the Potion Master returned just as he had said he would. In the interim, Harry had mostly tried to rest as he had been told. Remus made it a bit easier to do so by keeping Sirius’ restless energy focused in other places throughout the old house. Though, that didn’t stop his godfather from mother henning a bit. By the time Snape had returned, Harry felt in perfect condition, however, he was really ready to stop laying around.

 

More to the point, Harry had been thinking about the enigma that was Severus Snape to the point of obsession. He greatly desired to know more about the man for the first time in his life for a reason other than suspicion.

 

Harry had been waiting alone on the steps of the foyer watching other Order members come in for a scheduled meeting when the man he’d been waiting for entered Grimmauld Place. The brooding Potion Master swept in the door and Harry felt anxiety he hadn’t even realized he was harboring lift a little bit.

 

“You came,” Harry breathed. He stood on shaking legs and practically stumbled down the steps to the scowling man.

 

“I said I would,” Snape frowned. His lip looked as if it wanted desperately to lift in a sneer, but he somehow managed to suppress the urge. That alone, set Harry a bit more off balance.

 

“I…” Harry rubbed the back of his head nervously and told him unnecessarily, “They… They’re in the dining room.”

 

“I am aware,” Snape drawled out, managing some how to keep his voice at a level so as not to wake Walburga Black’s portrait but remain his normal foreboding self. His dark eyes roamed Harry’s face for a moment before the man sighed and rummaged around inside the many pockets of his robes. Snape huffed suddenly and pulled a very large potion bottle from somewhere near the end of his sleeve. He held it out to Harry with his long yellow stained fingers, “As promised. Take a capful once every morning. It should last until you get back to Hogwarts. Then you will come to me anytime you need more until you are comfortable. Understood?”

 

Harry nodded vigorously and snatched the frigid glass bottle as if it would be taken back. He cupped the glass in his hands posessively, and looked up at the tall dark man gratefully from under the messy fringe of his hair.

 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” He whispered with complete sincerity, “Can I… talk to you after the meeting, sir?”

 

Snape frowned, his eyes narrowed with wariness, but gave the boy a nod before swept down the dark, grimey hall to the dining room.

 

Harry watched him walk all the way down the hall, noting every nuance in the way the man held himself. Straight-backed, shoulders squared, and a powerfully calculated gait. Absently, Harry wondered if he’d ever be that tall.

 

The boy shook the thoughts from his head, and walked up the stairs as quickly as he dared in order to duck into the room Sirius had put him up in. Harry crouched beside his trunk and pulled it open with the hand that wasn’t holding his potion. Before he placed the bottle inside and surrounded the glass with a few of his shirts, he went ahead and took the capful Snape had told him to. The taste made him gag and his eyes water, but despite that he was still humming with excitement for the results.

 

Once he was content with the placement of the potion, Harry dug out a thin emerald green journal Hermione had gifted him ages ago and a ballpoint pen he had asked her to send earlier in the week. He opened it to the second page and scribbled out Snape’s instructions for taking his potion, then flipped back to the first page where he wrote down his observations of how Snape had walked just below similar observations he had made of Sirius, Remus, and the Auror named Kingsley he had been introduced to earlier in the week.

 

Harry snapped the book shut and shoved both it and the pen into the giant pocket of the hoodie he was wearing before he hurried down the stairs to the empty kitchen where he waited nervously for the end of the meeting.

 

By the time the Order had opened the door and had begun slowly trickling out, Harry had worked himself into a bit of an anxious wreck. Sirius, Remus, and Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen first. Mrs. Weasley, despairing over the apparent paleness of his skin insisted on making him some tea despite Harry’s protests that he didn’t need any. Remus told her jovially that he would love some, and Sirius, grinning in amusement at Harry’s discomfort slung a warm arm around his godson as he sat heavily beside him.

 

“You do look pale, pup,” Sirius observed as he gave Harry’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine, Sirius,” Harry smiled unconvincingly, “Really, I’m just-”

 

“Potter.”

 

Harry’s head swung up to meet Snape’s piercing gaze from the doorway. Sirius’ hand tightened almost painfully on Harry’s shoulder, and the boy grimaced. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Remus tense, and Mrs. Weasley at the edge of the table.

 

“Yes, sir?” Harry asked in an embarrassingly high pitch.

 

Both of Snape’s eyebrows lifted with what Harry would have called amusement on anyone else’s face.

 

“You wished to speak to me,” The man told him with no inflection whatsoever, “If that is still the case I would suggest you hurry. My time is short here.”

 

Harry stuttered what he hoped was an appropriate apology to his godfather as he pushed out his chair and slipped away from the arm that had been across his shoulders. The boy all but ran after the retreating form of the Potion Master, as the man turned out of the room and led the way down the hall and into one of the dusty studies.

 

“Well?” Snape drawled, leaning back against the crooked, three-legged desk in the middle of the room. Harry stared at Snape for a moment, biting his lip as he tried to collect himself again. In his head this had been easier. Confronted with the reality of Severus Snape in the flesh, Harry felt wrong-footed.

 

As was the way when Harry felt off kilter, he simply blurted out, “How did you fix it?”

 

Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the boy, and Harry felt the blood rush in hot to his face. He spluttered for a second before Snape seemed to take pity on him. The tall man raised a hand to shut Harry up, and his mouth snapped shut almost immediately.

 

“How did I fix _what_ , Potter?” Snape asked in that dangerously quiet voice he used when someone said something particularly stupid in Potions class, “Is there something more that is wrong with me I was unaware of?”

 

“I-” Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. Unconsciously, the boy folded his arms around his middle, “I thought… you were like me…?”

 

Snape lifted a single eyebrow and frowned, “And why do you assume that there is something wrong with us, Potter?”

 

“I… My aunt…” Harry started then stopped before he managed to get out, “My family tells me I’m a freak all the time. I-”

 

“Your aunt, you say,” Snape interrupted. There was a cold gleam in his eye that made Harry feel the need to repress a shiver, “Your mother’s sister?”

 

“Uhm, yes. How did you-”

 

“Lucky guess,” Snape interrupted again. He stared at Harry for a moment, causing the boy to shift nervously. With a quiet sigh, the man pushed off the edge of the crooked desk and stepped closer. He stood only an arm’s length away from the boy, and Harry felt the hair on his arms stand up as if in protest, “Tell me… Who knows about you?”

 

Harry tightened the hold around his middle and looked up at Snape, “Well… Sirius, Remus, Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, and the Headmaster. My dorm mates and the Quidditch team found out third year, and um… Hermione’s known since the first…”

 

Snape nodded as if he knew that would be the answer and folded his arms over his chest.

 

“Do you think…” Snape started, his dark eyes half-closing as he turned his face up so that he could look down his nose at the boy, “That any of those people think you are a freak for how you were made, Potter...?”

 

Harry looked down at the dirty floor, covered in foot prints and odd shapes from the flutter of Snape’s robes.

His dorm mates had gone out of their way to assure him that they didn’t care at all. Even Seamus and Ron, who he had expected to react the worst if they found out. They always made sure he had the privacy he needed after the first horribly terrifying incident of Harry being walked in on in the shower. The Gryffindor Quidditch team knew, but never mentioned it, much like Dumbledore and McGonagall.

 

All of those people treated him exactly the same as anyone else, though. Madam Pomfrey, Remus, and Hermione were the only ones he ever spoke to explicitly about it and they were all very understanding and supportive.

 

Even Sirius, who became incredibly awkward anytime the subject started to come up, loved him, and treated him as Harry had hoped he would.

 

“I… no. I don’t think they do…” Harry finally answered, looking back up at Snape.

 

“Why then, would you assume that what your aunt believes of you is correct over the people that actually care for you, Potter?” Snape asked, narrowing his eyes and stepping back. The man tilted his head to the side just slightly and sighed almost inaudibly, “There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with _us_. Do you understand?”

 

Harry’s breath caught in his throat, and he fought to get words around constriction. When he finally got the sounds to leave his mouth they were squeaky and caused him to flush again, “Yes, sir.”

 

“Good,” Snape nodded curtly. He dropped his arms from his chest and swept around Harry, so that the boy had to turn to keep him in eyeshot. The man paused at the door, his hand on the tarnished knob, “Potter… If you can get your magical guardian to give written permission… I will make the other potions for you.”

 

“Really?” Harry whispered, staring wide-eyed at the man’s broad back.

 

“It’s the least I could do,” Harry swore he heard whispered back before Snape was gone from the dark little room. His heart was pounding so hard he swore it would jump out from behind his chest.

 

_What did that even mean?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. No horizontal lines for scene changes. I'm proud of myself for that.


	3. Disappointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sirius explains SWM in his own perspective, and Harry feels incredibly let down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I drink when I write this specific story, and have no beta. Let me know if you spot mistakes that I've missed.
> 
> Sev is missing in this chapter in a direct sense, but this was an important conversation, and I wanted to approach Harry's knowledge of this event in a different way from canon since this entire fifth year itself is different. Not to mention it's important later.
> 
> A special thanks to the ever wonderful snuffles-groovy-doghouse for helping me with Sirius in this chapter. I worship at your feet, you perfect human, you.

“Padfoot? Can I talk to you?”

 

Sirius looked up from his lunch and quirked an eyebrow in his godson’s direction. Harry stood by the door of the kitchen, fiddling nervously with the hair at the back of his neck as he watched his godfather wipe his hands on his trousers and gesture to the seat across from himself. The boy entered and took the seat.

 

“Of course, Harry, always,” The animagus smiled, his brow furrowed just a bit in concern, “Are you okay? What’s up?”

 

“I…” Harry cleared his throat and gripped sweaty hands together under the table, “I want to talk to you about… about Snape.”

 

Sirius seemed to bristle for a moment, before a wary rigidness set into his shoulders. The man took a deep almost fortifying breath, set his elbows on the table, and leaned over his half eaten lunch with the air of one preparing for battle. Harry felt his stomach twist as he observed his godfather’s posture.

 

“What do you want to talk about that git for, Pup?”

 

Harry frowned then bit his lip, “How did you and Remus know about him? That he’s like me?”

 

Sirius grimaced, abandoning his almost aggressive stance to scoot his chair closer to the table and cross his arms over his chest. He swallowed very loudly, and gave Harry an oddly wary look. A look that put Harry even more on edge than he had been before.

 

“What you have to understand, Harry… is that Snape has always been suspicious slimy git. Your mum was convinced he wasn’t like the other Slytherins, but the four of us, the Marauders, but especially your dad and I, well, we didn’t believe that. He hung around with Avery and Mulciber. They were basically _already_ Death Eaters.”

 

Harry’s frown deepened. He crossed his arms across his own chest and sat back into the uncomfortable wooden chair.

 

“What happened?”

 

“We had always fought back and forth. Since the very first train ride, see?” Sirius told him, shifting in his own chair nervously, “It was mostly me, Prongs, and that _rat_. Moony didn’t want to get into trouble, so he mostly ignored us unless Snape went after him. Snape gave as good as he got, too, you know. He knew all kinds of nasty hexes… probably learned them from the other baby Death Eaters...”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed on the little snarl playing on his godfather’s mouth for a moment as he processed this information and the man in front of him trailed off. The boy looked up slowly, meeting Sirius’ gaze with more than a little trepidation.

 

“What did you _do_ , Sirius?” He asked in a whisper. It seemed as if his voice was still much too loud for the conversation they were having, and he gripped his arms hard at the sound of it.

 

“We… Well,” Sirius sighed and pulled one of his hands down his face in resignation, “We had went after him at the end of fifth year, just like normal. It was right after the Defense OWL and everyone was out by the lake for the period in between tests. Your mum came out to yell at us, she always tried to defend the git. When Prongs turned his back to talk to Lily, the sneaking coward tried to curse him from behind. I called out but James still got cut by the curse. Right across his cheek. Then… well... James used Snape’s own hex on him.  _Levicorpus_. It lifts someone in the air by their feet, see? And… Snape wore his robes like Purebloods do, which was a stupid idea-”

 

Harry closed his eyes so tightly for a moment that lights danced behind his eyelids and his godfather cut himself off instantly. When the boy opened his eyes again Sirius was squeezing his hands together. His fingers were locked tight enough to turn the knuckles bone white.

 

“You…” Harry started. His throat was tight again and forcing the words out hurt. Harry had to cough before continuing in a slightly less strangled voice, “Sirius… How do Purebloods wear their robes…?”

 

Sirius shifted again, and squeezed his hands impossibly harder, “They… They don’t wear trousers under them…”

 

All of a sudden Harry’s breath sped up. It felt as if he could not get enough air into his lungs all over again. He could only manage to bend forward and rest his forehead against the rough wood of the table for several dragging minutes.

 

“ _You_ actually… _My dad_ actually…” Harry gasped, squeezing his arms tighter around his chest. There was a fuzzy feeling all over his body, like all of it was on pins and needles. His limbs felt so heavy and moving them seemed impossible at the moment, "How could you _do_ that?!"

 

“Harry, we didn’t… we didn’t _know_ ,” Sirius pleaded. The sound of his chair scraping against the floor was followed by quick, heavy footsteps. A hand fell on Harry’s shoulder, and he reflexively jerked back, gasping. Sirius was close, and blurred by tears he hadn’t realized were there, "We thought he was... was-"

 

“ _Don’t_! Don’t _do_ that!” Harry panted, "It shouldn't have _mattered_ whether he was or wasn't, Sirius! That _still_ wouldn't be okay!"

 

“Harry, please…” Sirius tried again, “James didn’t know. None of us did.”

 

“No! And you wouldn’t have if you had left him alone!” Harry shouted. His godfather cringed back, and shook his head, “No wonder he hates you! No wonder he hates _me_!”

 

“ _You_ are not responsible for what _we_ did!” Sirius growled out. His grey eyes filled with the same spark of anger that usually came into them with the mention of Snape, “You have nothing to do with it! That git better not-”

 

“It doesn’t matter…” Harry sniffled, though he privately thought quite the opposite. Listening to the tirade Sirius would unleash about this subject right now was the last thing he wanted to do currently. Harry rubbed at his nose with his lead-heavy arm, and the boy scowled, leaning in a little towards his godfather, “What did you do after that…?”

 

“I…” Sirius looked away even as he crouched down beside Harry’s chair, “When it was… obvious… what was going on, I was… _confused_. I think James and I both were, really. I remember thinking that maybe he’d messed up one of his experiments, you know? My family… the scope of what and who I knew at that time in my life was very limited. It wasn’t until later that I even learned that he was the way that… well, you are. Your mum knew, see? She… She was furious at us, even though he’d called her a… a ‘mudblood’ right after Prongs had lifted him up. Not mad enough to forgive him, but-”

 

“Mum… _knew…_?” Harry felt incredibly confused by that information. The only people he had let know were people that were very close to him, or had found out by accident.

 

“They were… sort of friends before that. They grew up in the same town or something,” Sirius mumbled awkwardly. The boy just stared at his godfather for a moment. His mouth slightly parted in disbelief and his face rubbed pink. _Snape_ _had been friends with his mum?_

 

“Why have none of you ever told me that?” Harry scowled, pinching just under his shoulders to try and work out the fuzzy, heavy feeling from his arms, “I ask about mum all the time, why wouldn’t you-”

 

“He’s a _Death Eater,_ Harry,” Sirius scowled back, “Look. Just because you two have this _thing_ in common, it doesn’t make him trustworthy, okay?”

 

“Sirius,” Harry grimaced. He wasn’t sure how to explain this feeling he had now. This sense of needing to know the man, and how he got to where he currently was, or why that was so important for Harry to find out, “I just… I need to think about this… alone, for a while. Can we just… Can we do this later, please?”

 

His godfather sighed and stood from his crouch. The man shook his head, and smiled feebly down at Harry, “Sure, pup. Whenever you like.”

 

Harry nodded and stood, making his way toward the door of the kitchen. His godfather’s voice stopped him right in the threshold.

 

“Pup.”

 

“Yes?” The boy turned to look over his shoulder at Sirius. The man seemed lost, and uncharacteristically small in that moment. He was hunched over, and his hands were holding each other tight again. This time, the hold did little to disguise the slight shaking in Sirius' fingers. The sight bothered Harry immensely.

 

“For what it’s worth… Your mum made your dad and I both feel horrible for that one…”

 

Harry stared for a moment running that sentence through his head several times. Sirius shifted nervously beside the table under his godson's narrow-eyed gaze.

 

“For what it’s worth,” Harry replied quietly, turning back toward the hall, “You bloody well should have felt that way on your own, Sirius.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be back in Hogwarts next chapter and back with Severus.
> 
> This was a difficult chapter to write. Bah.


	4. Excitement and Speculation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School starts again; Severus acts strange, and Harry feels excitement, awkward, and suspicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standard warnings apply.

The last few weeks in Grimmauld Place were incredibly awkward, but Harry still much prefered it to being back at the Dursley’s. He had not spoken properly to Sirius since they had their conversation. Both of them seemed intent on ignoring it as much as possible; Sirius because he did not seem to know what more to say to make Harry understand, and Harry because if he were honest, he was still angry and disappointed about it all.

 

The tense atmosphere was broken up a little bit by the arrival of the Weasley family and Hermione about a week out from the 1st of September. Their arrival made talking about it even more impossible, but Harry didn’t mind that at all.

 

Instead he chose to focus on the shrinking of his chest. Harry was ecstatic to note that it had flattened considerably, and when he wore particularly loose or thick clothing he almost didn’t feel like wearing his binder was necessary anymore. He had also noticed a slight thickening of his body hair, and that discovery had him so excited that he’d tackled Ron out of a dead sleep one morning and made him look at the hair on his arms and legs as if he were a small child on Christmas morning.

 

Ron didn’t complain about the jarring early wake up, but did insist that the discovery should be celebrated with the food they could smell Mrs. Weasley making downstairs. Hermione thought that it was, in her own words, “absolutely fascinating!”, and made Harry tell her everything he knew about the potion Snape had given him. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but she listened eagerly anyway. Harry could almost see the want to research forming in her brain.

 

Before he knew it, they were on the train and headed back to Hogwarts. The ride wasn’t as happy as usual. Hermione and Ron had to leave for the front of the train in order to take care of their new Prefect duties, leaving Harry with Ginny, Neville, and a very odd friend of Ginny’s named Luna Lovegood. Luna was kind, even if she did seem completely out of her mind, and Harry decided he liked her.

 

As usual, Draco Malfoy stopped by to be a prat, but this year was also marked by an awkward greeting from Cho Chang. The girl just so happened to open the compartment door right after Neville’s Mimbulus Mimbletonia released a horrid amount of stinksap. The entire debacle would've been absolutely mortifying last year, but Harry found that this year he cared a little less for impressing the beautiful Ravenclaw Seeker.

 

The trend in the unusual continued when Harry got off the train and came face to face with the skeletal horses pulling the carriages that the years previous had not been pulled by anything at all. Luna’s explanation of Thestrals and reassurances that Harry was “just as sane” as she was, were well meant, but only served to reignite the feeling of being more odd than his peers that Harry always had struggled with, as well as the depressive thoughts he had been trying to suppress over Cedric Diggory’s death.

 

During the most frustrating and ominous Welcoming Feast Harry had ever been to, the boy kept a surreptitious eye on Professor Snape. He was determined to speak to the man as soon as he could manage it. His burning desire to know the man better had not waned at all during the weeks between getting the potion and returning to Hogwarts. In fact, it seemed almost to intensify to an unbearable and almost embarrassing degree. He was quite certain that Hermione and Ron were at their wit's end from listening to him prattle on about the little bit Harry did know about the man.

 

Mindful of timing as so to not draw attention to his plan of attack, Harry excused himself from the table as Snape began to push his plate away and took off from the Great Hall. Thinking quickly, he swung into the antechamber that McGonagall had taken them into as first years and waited until he could hear the rhythmic clicking of Snape’s boots in the empty entry way.

 

“Professor!” Harry whisper-shouted, peeking his messy head of hair out from behind the doorway. Snape froze mid-step on his way toward the dungeons and turned slowly. A single brow rose when he caught sight of Harry, but otherwise the man’s face was blank, “Can I speak to you, sir?”

 

Snape frowned, looking around to make certain the hall was clear. With a great sigh, the man nodded before he swept back and into the antechamber. The professor shut the door behind himself, and drew his long black wand from somewhere in his voluminous robes. Snape flicked it at the door a few times before he turned to Harry, tucking it back away.

 

“You need more of the potion, Potter?” Snape asked in his low, rumbling voice.

 

“Uhm, yes, sir,” Harry nodded, suddenly feeling nervous in a way he’d never felt around Snape before, “And I’m going to see Professor Dumbledore later tonight to get permission for the rest of it. I just wanted to thank you again, sir.”

 

“That is… unnecessary,” Snape frowned. His sharp black eyes seemed to bore into Harry for a long moment causing a shudder to run down the boy’s spine, “You should’ve been started on these much earlier. I am only giving you access to something you always should’ve had.”

 

An awkward smile lifted Harry’s mouth at the man’s deflection almost against his will. He shook his head and ran a shaky hand through his hair anxiously, “Yeah, but I didn’t, and now I do, and I feel… I feel _real_ , and it’s all because of you, and I just… uhm… Thank you. _So much_.”

 

Harry wasn’t sure if he imagined the slight upturn at the corners of the man’s mouth. It disappeared just as suddenly as it had appeared. In any case, Professor Snape looked the most friendly in that moment than Harry had ever imagined him capable of looking. Instead of accepting the thank you, Snape asked a question, deflecting once again.

 

“The changes have been significant?”

 

“Yeah!” Harry grinned, forgetting momentarily to whom he was speaking as he began to babble excitedly, “I’m almost completely flat already, and my body hair has gotten thicker, and just yesterday I noticed the hair around the edges of my lips is starting to grow in! I thought it was just going to shrink my chest! I didn’t know it was going to do other stuff! It’s amazing, I- uhm…”

 

Harry cut himself off, flushing heavily at the look of tempered amusement Snape saw fit to favor him with. A look Harry had only ever seen the man give his Slytherin students. The man nodded in understanding and hesitantly took a step closer.

 

“Don’t be embarrassed to be excited for this,” Snape told him in a low whisper, “I understand. I would not take this joy from you.”

 

Harry’s brow furrowed. He stared up at the man’s face with suspicion and a touch of awe.

 

“Why, sir?” That the Professor normally took any chance he could to extinguish Harry’s joy was unspoken.

 

The man frowned at the insinuation and shook his head. His face cleared of expression again, “Not _this_. _Never_ this... Since you seem to be determined to find me out and speak to me… I will ask the Headmaster permission for you. I also will speak to him about something else that may… make both our lives safer. Assuming you can put in the work properly. If not, I will have to insist you stop trying to corner me, understood?”

 

“Really?” Harry asked, frowning, “Why? Why would you do that for me?”

 

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, Potter,” Snape smirked. He straightened then, flicking his wand at the door again and opening it to the chatter of other students leaving the Great Hall, “It’s more for me than for you, I assure you.”

 

That night, Harry could hardly sleep for speculation over the man’s motives, the fiery need to know burning even brighter in his mind than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to update this again today before I go to bed! As always, lemme know if you spot a distracting typo. It's super helpful. Thanks for reading, y'all.


	5. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is informed of Occlumency and warned about Umbridge. He takes the advice in a different direction then meant, and Severus begins to wonder if maybe the boy is serious about this after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going out so much later than I had wanted. D: Ugh. I'm hoping to get on a better schedule for this fic now that holidays are mostly over, and hopefully update my other that I haven't touched in a while. *sigh*
> 
> Continual Warning: This fic is always written incredibly drunk and occasionally mistakes are missed. Sorry for that.

The first week of school was an absolute nightmare. Harry managed to secure detention for himself right out of the gate in Umbridge’s class. Four nights that week he sat in her office writing lines in his own blood. Mountains of red stained parchment marked his nights, but even they couldn’t keep Professor Snape from his mind. Harry was driving himself mad with thoughts of what his Potions Professor was convincing the Headmaster to do.

 

The only bright spot was that he was one of the few able to complete his Draught of Peace to perfection. An accomplishment marked by Professor Snape choosing not to single him out in class, and silently handing him back a grade sheet marked with a small O in the lower bottom corner. He didn’t tell anyone what he’d gotten on that first potion of the month. Harry was absolutely positive that the Professor wouldn’t appreciate it if he had.

 

That Thursday, Harry was saved from his ongoing concern about Professor Snape’s activities with a curt, “Stay after class, Potter”.

 

He waited until everyone had left, and the Professor had shut the door behind them with a couple flicks of his wand before he shuffled up to the man’s desk. His hands shook from their hidden place within his robe pockets.

 

“Sir?” He asked quietly. Snape smirked and sat gracefully in the chair behind his desk. Another wand flick and a mumbled charm summoned a stool out from behind one of the student desks near the front of the room. Harry couldn’t help frowning as he took a seat and placed his bag beside his feet.

 

“The Headmaster has decided that my request would be in the best interest of the Wizarding World at large,” Snape drawled with no preamble. He folded long pale fingers together over the top of his desk and leaned forward, the Potion Master’s  face affecting a disinterested and blank look that was all too familiar, “I will be teaching you the art of Occlumency, Potter.”

 

“Occlumency?” Harry scowled, “...I don’t know what that is, sir.”

 

Snape sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his crooked nose, “No. I didn’t expect you to know. For now, what is important for you to know is that you will be taking ‘Remedial Potions’ every Monday and Wednesday. Understood?”

 

“I... “ Harry floundered for a moment. The boy looked at his Professor in utter confusion, taking in his appearance to judge how many questions he might be able to get away with. Snape seemed exhausted. More so than usual, anyway. His eyelids seemed heavy, and his shoulders were not quite as straight as he usually kept them, “Are you okay, sir?”

 

Snape dropped his hand and glowered at Harry half-heartedly, “I’m fine, Potter. That is unimportant and off topic. Do you _understand_?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Harry sighed, reaching for his bag and sliding off the stool. Minimal questions as usual, then, “What time should I be here?”

 

“Right after dinner,” Professor Snape’s eyes narrowed, and he stood as well. The man swept around his desk and led Harry to the door of the classroom without a backward glance, as if confident Harry would follow him. Harry rolled his eyes even as he walked behind his professor, “And Potter?”

 

“Sir?” Harry frowned as Snape stopped and spun around at the door. Professor Snape’s eyes narrowed even further, glittering strangely in the dim light of the Potions Classroom. The man’s face was oddly blank for the amount of irritation simmering in his eyes, a sight that had Harry a bit wary.

 

“Keep your head down around that Umbridge woman. It will be much easier for me to get you out of a detention that falls on one of your ‘Remedial’ days if you’ve not actually done anything more than exist in her presence,” Snape grumbled.

 

“I don’t go _looking_ for detentions, you know,” Harry scowled back, stepping around the man with jerky, angry movements, “She has it out for me. I’m sure she’d torture me outright if she could for no reason other than I told the truth about Voldemort.”

 

“Potter,” The professor snapped. Harry stopped, his hand on the door, but did not turn around. He was sure Snape’s expression was positively furious, “We are not telling you to keep your head down because we think you are at fault. We are telling you to keep your head down so that it is more difficult for her to speak against both you _and_ the rest of us at a later date. You give her what she wants every time you speak against her and ‘the Ministry’. This is not an enemy to be defeated by overt means.”

 

Harry frowned at the door for a moment, then chanced a look over his shoulder. There was something in Snape’s face he’d never seen before, or… maybe just once before. The night that Voldemort had returned and his Mark had flared to life again. It was almost desperate.

 

“I... “ The boy turned away again, pushing the door open and hesitating only a moment. Harry grinned with a sudden realization and turned around, walking out of the door and down the hall backwards, “I’ll be a model student, Professor.”

 

“ _Potter_!” Snape snarled, starting forward. Harry smirked and turned to run down the hall, satisfied that the man’s footsteps hadn’t followed him.

 

The Potion Master’s warning made Harry think in a different direction than Professor McGonagall’s had. How could he have forgotten? Harry had plenty of experience thwarting authority of boisterous tyrants. Why not apply the methods he’d used against the Dursley’s in his younger years. Harry would just need to tweak a few things and he may able to work Umbridge into looking even more ridiculous than she naturally made herself seem. He couldn’t sit back and just do nothing, after all.

 

For some reason, he was a bit hesitant to disappoint Snape by not heeding his advice. This way… maybe he could both take the man’s instruction, and do what he felt was right.

 

* * *

 

“I heard the most interesting rumour today, Severus.”

 

Severus froze, knife halfway through cutting into a baked potato. Slowly, he turned to look up at Albus, who was smiling so great it was almost a grin. The older man’s twinkling periwinkle eyes were filled with undisguised amusement that made Severus immediately wary of the man.

 

“I assume it must be pertinent to myself in some way…?” Severus asked cooly, turning back to his potato in order to disguise the sudden anxious feeling the Headmaster had stirred up in the back of his head. The old man chuckled and sat in Umbridge’s empty chair, serving himself some tea and making himself comfortable. Severus watched him dump a criminal amount of sugar into his tea cup before snarking half-heartedly, “Will she not attempt to throw you out over taking her seat?”

 

“Oh, no,” Albus chuckled, stirring the tea and sitting back a bit, “Delores has opted to take dinner in her quarters tonight. A reprieve for which I’m sure we are all appreciative of.”

 

Severus frowned for a moment, before adopting his blankest expression yet again, “And this rumour you’ve come to bother me with, Albus?”

 

The Headmaster chuckled again, blowing a bit at his tea before taking a small sip and turning to look at Severus, “I have heard that young Harry has finally taken a different approach to dealing with the issue Minerva brought up to us the last time we were taking tea in my office. It seems quite a few students witnessed Harry inquire if Professor Umbridge required any assistance with class today.”

 

“Have you come to tell me Potter is being reckless and arrogant again, Albus?” Severus sneered, turning back to his potato with a slightly more aggressive than necessary stab of his fork, “That’s hardly news to me.”

 

“Not at all, Severus,” Albus told him, just as happily as before. The man was quite immune to Severus’ bad moods at this point. It was incredibly frustrating at times like this, “In fact, he was incredibly polite from what I understand. I believe Delores took points for ‘cheek’ or something of the like. His fellow students apparently found the whole affair quite baffling, and understandably so, I think. I do wonder, though…”

 

Severus looked at the Headmaster from the corner of his eye, frowning around a small bite of potato.

 

“Minerva had reported that Harry had not heeded her warning in the slightest. She was rather frustrated by it, in fact,” Albus mused, running one aged finger across the smooth porcelain cup, “It does make me wonder if perhaps someone else may have gotten through to him?”

 

Severus swallowed his bite, and turned to the elder man with a scowl. Albus still had that infuriatingly knowing smile on his face, turned up just a bit more on one corner.

 

“Just what are you insinuating, Albus?” He growled out from behind gritted teeth, “You know I could not possibly care  what Potter gets himself up to in classes that aren’t my own.”

 

“Oh, nothing, Severus, nothing at all,” The Headmaster chuckled, setting down a now empty cup and standing in order to finally make his way to the proper spot at the Head Table. Before he turned, the old man’s smile became just slightly more fond, “Just that, perhaps you are correct about teaching him in one on one sessions. Do remember to be careful, Severus.”

 

And with that, the man was off, and Severus was left staring at the space the man’s head was in just a moment ago.

 

The boy had listened to him? Actually taken his advice to heart? He had assumed Potter’s compliance lately was due to the fact that the boy was curious, and more importantly wanted Severus to continue to make him the potions he needed. He hadn’t thought the boy would actually take his instruction on the subject of Dolores Umbridge. But Potter had, in a way... even if he managed to continue to be utterly infuriating to the woman. He certainly hadn’t taken the advice when Minerva had told him, and Potter respected her much more than Severus. What could have possibly have said differently to make the boy desist in his openly defiant outbursts?

 

The Potion Master frowned and looked out over the heads of the students, almost immediately finding a pair of familiar green eyes turned up at him. Severus frowned and the boy turned away from his gaze quickly, answering an inquiry from Granger.

 

How… _curious_. Severus had thought Potter’s need to converse with him to be almost grudging, especially with the boy’s sudden overuse of the word “sir” in conversation, but perhaps he misread. There was only one way to tell. Maybe he wouldn’t regret the request to teach the boy Occlumency, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to update again before the end of the week with the first Occlumency lesson and hopefully getting Severus to thaw a little more. It's already half written, so that's good news. I apologize again for the wait. Life, you know?


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